Please?
by Fenris's Slytherin Princess
Summary: Harry argues, Draco hexes, Harry punches and Draco kisses. Set in 8th year, starting during the summer. DRARRY. Slight M/M and a lot of sex talk- sorry!


f

Eighth year came soon after the war. In fact, Harry had spent the summer alone at 12, Grimmauld Place alone. He'd done nothing that was overly productive. He'd cleaned up the place, and removed all Black portraits that were enchanted. He'd also employed Winky into his service, so that Kreacher could have some time off. The summer went as expected, in all honesty. He'd had no trouble from anyone apart from reporters, and he'd been able to get rid of those quickly. He'd grown a little bit, and his eyes seemed to grow greener after his conection to Lord Voldermort had been severed. His scar didn't hurt any more, and it was beginning to fade to white, leaving him completely unscathed from the entire ordeal. Except the nightmares, of course, but Hermione had said that they too would fade in time, and Harry would be able to have a normal life and grow as old as he was meant to. He'd missed Hermione's calming words and Ron's over reactions, in fact Harry had occasionally visited Hermione and Ron, and even had Ginny to stay over for the last week of the holidays. And that week was when the trouble began.

"Breakfast, Harry?" Ginny and Harry had had a very eventful night, and Harry was still lounging in bed, fiddling with his wand. Ginny had poked her head around the door, and the smell of cooking food wafted in, rousing Harry.  
"Please, Gin." Harry sat up on his elbows, and smiled sleepily. Ginny quickly pecked her boyfriend on the cheek, and disappeared down the stairs. Harry was still half naked, and too tired to even think about getting dressed. His mind wandered to the night before, and he grew heavy with sleep. Ginny dropped a few pans downstairs, and Harry jumped, prompting him to get dressed. He summoned a pair of pyjama bottoms and a sweatshirt, and dragged his feet downstairs.  
"Does bacon sound good?" Ginny was holding a spatula in one hand, and a large frying pan in the other. Her hair was in a messy pony tail, and her eyes had large bags under them. Harry nodded.  
"Aren't you cold?" Harry inquired, wondering why Ginny hadn't turned blue; she was only wearing a skimpy, silk nightdress. Harry shivered as he tempted himself with her elegant shoulders and curvy waist.  
Ginny turned around to answer, flipping bacon. "Of course not," she smirked, "I'm still warm from last night." Harry had to shake himself inwardly to get the images out of his head. _A time and a place, Potter, _He reminded himself sternly. Harry wasn't taking no for an answer; he took his jumper off, and put it around his girlfriend. Despite being the middle of summer, the basement level of Grimmauld Place was cold, as it was mostly stone.  
"At least you're covered," Harry commented, and started putting bread under the grill. His stomach rumbled greedily as Harry yawned.  
"Hmm," Ginny shrugged, "hungry?" She asked, just a hint of sarcasm in her voice.  
"I haven't eaten much," Harry rolled his eyes, and puffed his cheeks out.  
"Why?" Ginny got a few plates out, and started assembling cutlery.  
"I've been asleep for most of the holidays," Harry admitted, slightly embarrassed.  
"Well," Ginny got the toast out, and began buttering it, "now you can eat." She pointed to the table, "go sit." Harry obeyed, and Ginny began plating up a few bacon sandwiches for Harry.  
"Thanks, love." He said, his mouth watering as the plate slid to him. He picked up a sandwich, and began eating hungrily. Ginny sat opposite him, and they sat in silence whilst the both inhaled the sandwiches. Harry got up to leave, when Ginny tugged at his hand.  
"I don't think we finished last night," her eyes filled with lust, and she flicked her wand, moving everything off the wooden dining table. Harry obliged by holding his girlfriend at the waist, and kissing her tenderly. He'd barely woken up from a night filled with this; he didn't really want to have another sex filled day. Ginny pulled Harry closer into her, and hopped on the table. Harry kicked the door behind him, and wove his hands into Ginny's hair. He felt her heart beating against his own chest, and smiled. Within minutes, Harry had had enough.  
"Gin," he protested. "Gin!" He said more urgently as his girlfriend began groping his behind.  
"Sorry!" Ginny blushed, and pushed Harry back a little. "Sorry," Ginny said more firmly. "I didn't get my share last night, that's all."  
Harry felt instantly guilty, "I'm sorry, Ginny. I was just tired-"  
"I wouldn't say tired, as such, more lazy!" Ginny replied, snapping.  
Harry backed up a little bit, hurt of what he was being accused. "Ginny, I was flying non-stop yesterday! For _you_! What would you rather- sex or help securing a new job?"  
"I won't be able to work until next year, so sex!" Ginny's nostrils flared as she spoke- a warning sign that she was getting angry. "You just bloody fell asleep!"  
"I was knackered!" Harry retorted.  
"So was I! But I managed to do you for half a bloody hour!" Ginny was turning red, and her freckles were becoming less distinguishable.  
Harry looked up at the clock; two o'clock. They slept in quite late, it seemed. "I'm going out." Harry decided, trying to avoid an argument.  
"What?" Ginny looked furious; she tried to stop Harry, but he shrugged her off and stalked up the stairs to the bathroom.

Harry let the cold water run over his back, and he picked up a bottle of shampoo. He lathered his hair quickly, wanting to be out the house as soon as he could. He felt guilty for leaving Ginny through an argument, and even more guilty for leaving her less-than-pleasured. Nevertheless, he fancied a drink, and he only knew one pub where they may actually serve a beer or two to Harry; the Drunken Pumpkin.

The Drunken Pumpkin was a small wizarding bar on the edge of Muggle London. Not many people knew about it, but it was Harry's favourite hide-out. After getting dried, getting dressed and brushing his teeth, Harry apparated there. The outside of the bar made it look like a Nordic tavern; it was wooden, with an old-fashioned swing-sign hanging from the thatched roof. Each pillar that supported the second floor balcony was carved intricately, and Harry always paused to finger a few of the carvings before stepping in. Inside, however, was a different story. The ground floor had a large dance floor, with thumping bass music coming from the gigantic speakers. Opposite the dance floor, there was a bar, usually tended by a friendly wizard, and a seating area, with lots of tables and booths. The first floor was more like a traditional English pub, with a jukebox and small kitchen area. It also had a bar, with a slightly overly friendly Witch tending it. The kitchen ran on House Elves and Humans, so the prices were fair, and the food was the best around. Magic let the two floors remain separate, though one could pass between them if they wished. It was a lovely environment, and Harry often felt at peace there, despite the awful music on both floors. The second floor was more like a hotel; rooms were popular, and the Drunken Pumpkin thrived on the business the B&B got. Harry entered, and found himself almost alone in the entire place, save a few patrons and the bar tenders. He hung up a leather jacket he'd borrowed from Neville a while ago, and began making his way to the ground floor bar. He desperately needed a drink, but the usual bar tender was off sick. _This could be problematic, _Harry's inner voice piped up, but Harry shook his head and smiled. He was Harry Potter; nothing was ever _that _problematic. But that's where he was wrong. Because if he'd just pleased Ginny the night before, or even that morning, then he wouldn't have known that _Draco fucking Malfoy_ was working at his favourite watering hole, and he wouldn't have felt the all too familiar pull again.

"M-Malfoy?" Harry paused a few feet away from his usual seat at the bar, and tilted his head to one side. Harry had spoken for Draco and Narcissa at the end of the war, but he could do nothing to save Mr Malfoy, despite his efforts. The blond-haired bar tender, who was cleaning a glass, in his own little world, jumped. He clearly hadn't expected to see the Golden Boy.  
"Potter?" Draco put down the now clean glass and cleared his throat. His expression turned stony as he became a bar tender, not the young boy he was.  
"Just a drink, please." Harry shook himself, and slid into his favourite bar stool, opposite the cash register.  
"I can't serve you, Potter." Draco sneered, "I can get you a fruit juice, if you'd like?"  
"But Rhys," the bar tender, "always serves me." Harry whined, "where is he?"  
"Sick; I'm replacing him for a few days." Draco explained.  
"Well, can I have a butterbeer at least?" Harry asked politely, trying to ignore the fact that he was talking to _Draco fucking Malfoy_.  
Draco rolled his eyes, opened a refridgerator, and found a slightly warm bottle of butterbeer. "I better not get the sack for this." Draco uttered seriously before handing Harry the bottle, as well as a clean glass.  
"I promise you won't," Harry poured the drink into the glass, and sipped it. He thanked whoever invented butterbeer in his head, and turned his attention to Draco. "How'd you get the job here?"  
"Esmerelda," the owner, "took pity on me when my Father went to Azkaban." Draco looked down, his eyes flashing with sadness. He looked up again, "she said if she ever had any work going, that I would be first choice."  
"I expect things are hard at home?" Harry raised his eyebrows, barely looking at Draco.  
"You don't know the half of it, Potter." Draco's top lip curled up in distgust, but he shook his head. "Well, that's not true. You've been bombarded with reporters, and I hear you're dealing with them very well."  
"Not as well as I'd like," Harry admitted, "but still, I'm getting by." Harry thought about how 'getting by' was thanks to the war, and the money his parents left him.  
"Thank you," Draco whisered after a good ten minutes of silence between the two boys.  
Harry looked up, shocked. "Excuse me?"  
"Did I stutter, Potter?" Harry didn't hear Draco stutter, so he shook his head. "I said thank you." Draco could swap between being cold and heartless, to slightly less so in a few seconds. Draco placed another bottle of butterbeer in front of Harry, and took his owed money.  
"I couldn't let you go to Azkaban," Harry looked everywhere but Draco, "you're so young. It would be such a waste."  
Draco seemed flustered for a minute, but managed a simple "thank you."  
Harry finished his butterbeer in silence, but before getting up to leave, turned to Draco. "See you the same time tomorrow?"  
The blond seemed confused to say the least, but nodded slowly, his forehead furrowed. "See you, Potter."

"Where the bloody hell have you been?" Ginny shouted down the stairs as soon as Harry walked through the door. He shuddered, and felt a wave of guilt wash over him.  
"Out," Harry shouted back, staying as calm as he could.  
"Well done!" Ginny called angrily. Harry heard her thudding footsteps, and took his jacket off. "_Where _out?"  
"Pub," Harry muttered, wishing to shrink, or just go out again.  
"Which pub?" Ginny snapped.  
"I don't fucking know!" Harry lied, and swevered around Ginny, and ducked into the kitchen. He helped himself to a biscuit and found himself being yelled at.  
"Who were you with? What were you doing? What were you drinking?" And about twenty other questions shot out at Harry, until he snapped.  
"_Shut up!_" He covered his mouth, but it was too late. Ginny's face was turning red, and her fists were clenching. She'd managed to get dressed after their spat this morning, but she didn't seem to care about her hair. "Gin, I-"  
"_Harry James Potter!_" She screeched, "get out!" She pointed to the door, but Harry had now unleashed the beast. There was only three ways this could go; Harry could leave, like Ginny wanted, Harry could initiate sex with Ginny, or Ginny could cool off somewhere else.  
"It's my sodding house!" Harry roared back.  
"Fine!" Ginny stalked out the kitchen, slamming the door behind her.  
"Fine!" Harry echoed, hearing his girlfriend storm upstairs.

"I'm leaving," Ginny stated, an hour after their newest argument. "See you at school," she looked like she was going to kiss Harry goodbye, but she pulled away, reminding herself of the anger. She apparated away in front of Harry's eyes, but he wasn't as upset as he thought he might be. Instead of moping around the house, he decided to go back to the Drunken Pumpkin, and drink his troubles away. He didn't care if Draco was bar tending, he just wanted to forget about that stupid argument he was already regretting.

"Potter?" Harry slipped into his stool at the now-packed bar. Draco was still tending, and was even more puzzled to see Harry back at the pub. "What-"  
"Arguement with Ginny," Harry interrupted before Draco could even finish. Draco shrugged, and served Harry firewhiskey this time, regardless of what Harry wanted. "Thanks," Harry grunted, and began drinking straight away.  
"Wanna talk about the argument?" Draco leaned on the bar opposite Harry, and watched.  
Harry looked up, and noticed how the awful lighting made Draco look somewhat more handsome than he'd remembered. "Yeah," he finally said.  
"What were you arguing about?" Draco asked, pulling a pint for another patron.  
"Sex, amongst other things." Harry felt a tiny blush rise up in him, so he gulped his drink in an attempt to hide it.  
"Ah," Draco smirked knowingly, "yes, sex." He nodded.  
"It's not like I haven't done _everything _to please her in bed! But _one _time I fall asleep- she loses her shit! I mean _c'mon_!" Harry rubbed his eyes.  
"Oh," Draco shifted awkwardly.  
"Truth be told, if you wake a guy up at three in the _fucking _morning, he _is _going to fall asleep when you're doing your thing!" Harry grew more irritated at the idea as he spoke. He sighed, realising how awkward he felt. "Sorry," he mumbled, downing yet another drink.  
"I understand," Draco lied, "_women._"  
"Are you saying 'women' like that because you're a sexist pig, or because you understand?"  
"The latter," Draco smiled, and served Harry yet again.  
"So," Harry didn't want to end the conversation, "how's your day been?" And so Draco began to tell Harry about his day, and the two grew more comfortable with each other, and carried on chattering into the wee hours of the morning.

Harry was happy to be back at Hogwarts, despite the losses that everyone made. People died, and the atmosphere was sombre and tear jerking. Still, it was better than the awkward silences that occurred when Ginny came to pick up her stuff a few days after she left. She was only there for a week, but when she left, Harry started noticing more and more empty spots of where her things used to be.

His first class on the second week was potions with Draco, who he'd gained mutual respect for over the last few days of the holidays. They were brewing a simple health potion, and both Harry and Draco were confident they could get it right.  
"Chop slower!" Draco ordered.  
"It makes _no _difference!" Harry turned his top lip upwards, and scowled. It wasn't all an act for the benefit of their various classmates; Harry didn't regard Draco and himself as friends, but they spoke outside of class now. Hermione and Ron regarded this as fixing the past, but Harry didn't see it like that. In fact, he was quite happy to forget the past, that's all he wanted to do, really. No. Draco was someone who he could get along with, away from the camera's.  
"It does!" Draco retorted, and shoved Harry out of the way. "Look," he snatched the knife away from the Gryffindor, and chopped the root slower. Harry didn't want to admit it, but the root was fading from blue to white as it was being cut, like it was supposed to.  
"You're an insufferable git," Harry glared at Draco. "You know that, right?"  
"Yes," Draco sighed, a little more wearily than he'd hoped, "Merlin knows how long of my father telling me, you'd have thought I'd have picked that up by now." That shut Harry up, for sure. Sometimes he wondered what it was like in the Malfoy Household; little insights like that made him wish he'd never even wondered.

The two boys finished their potion with about ten minutes to spare, and packed up quickly. Hermione and Ron were failing at making their potion, as they took it in turns to stare longingly at one another. It made both Draco and Harry sick to their stomachs. "It's repulsive," Draco muttered, copying up the potion method onto a spare bit of parchment.  
"Yeah," Harry agreed, "I was never like that with Ginny."  
"Was?" Draco turned his head to Harry, "aren't you with her anymore?"  
Harry shrugged, and started fiddling with his quill. "I don't really know, we barely speak anymore." Why he was opening up to Draco was beyond him, and what confused him more was that he was sober. "Fuck," Harry exclaimed after jabbing his finger with his quill. He looked up in time to see Draco wince. "What's up?" He asked casually.  
"I'm not used to swearing," Draco admitted sheepishly, "I'm sorry."  
"I'd have thought you were used to swearing," Harry smiled, "with all those women that come in and out of your bedroom." He clamped his hand over his mouth. But it was too late, the secret had slipped.  
Draco lowered his voice to a mere whisper, "Potter, have you been _spying _on me?"  
"No!" Harry shook his head vigorously. "Just rumours!" He nodded, smiling as widely as his chiselled jaw would allow.  
"_Rumours?!_" Draco's face was turning red, and he looked ready to burst. "Who's been spreading _gossip _about me?" His eyes narrowed and Draco watched as Harry squirmed in discomfort.  
"Okay!" Harry raised his hands as he saw Draco head to his wand. "I may have been spying! Just a _little_! When you looked uncomfortable when I talked about sex, I was curious! And I caught wind of someone talking about you and Pansy- I just _had _to know!" Harry would have spewed more truths about what happened and why, but Draco hit him with a stunning spell that sent him flying off his stool.

"Ouch," Harry woke up in the infirmary a few hours after dinner. He'd hit his head on the work bench behind him.  
"It's okay, Harry." Hermione was already there, so it seemed. "It's just a minor concussion."  
"Minor, my left arse cheek." Harry's top lip curled, and he rubbed his head absently.  
Hermione tutted, then looked down shyly, "Ron won't come- Draco's waiting outside for you, and he doesn't want a fight."  
"Ron _always _wants to fight with Malfoy- it's his thing." Harry rolled his eyes, and smiled knowingly. "It's alright. I'd like to see him anyway."  
"Are you sure?" Hermione sounded uncertain.  
"Yes," Harry winked, "I owe him a punch or two for this." Hermione looked soothed enough, and left. Harry could hear her voice behind the two wooden doors, and then Draco's.

"Sorry," Draco managed, standing cooly at the end of Harry's bed. "I shouldn't have cursed you."  
"Eh," Harry shrugged, and pointed to the chair next to his bed. "Sit," he commanded.  
Draco did so, and apologised again, "I really shouldn't have done. But you shouldn't have spied... You really betrayed my trust, Potter. I thought we were friends."  
"F-Friends?" Harry gawped slightly, then nodded. "Uh, yes. I guess we were." He felt mortified. If they were friends, then Harry could say he was checking up on Draco. But he didn't even _know _they were friends! "I was just being nosy, I guess. I wanted to see if I'd heard right, mostly."  
After a minute, Draco looked up at Harry. He scanned the boy silently, then smirked. "I'd have done the same." That was all he said, and that was all that needed to be said, because now they were friends, and friends they would act like.

The next morning at breakfast, Harry was near silent. Ginny was talking to Hermione, and kept shooting him confused looks. Ron was trying to engage with Harry, but he was blank. He just sipped his pumpkin juice quietly, and nibbled on the edge of toast. "Harry?" Ginny was sat opposite him, and she was determined to get his attention.  
"What?" Harry's eyes were heavy with sleep, and he still had a thumping headache.  
"Are we going out at the next Hogsmeade trip, or are we staying in?" She asked, assuming they were going out at all.  
"I don't know," Harry grumbled, getting irritated, "I was going to catch up on some homework-" He would have finished, but at that moment, a gush of owls came from the hall entrance way, and a small, black owl dropped a letter off for Harry. Well, less a letter, more a neatly written note.  
"Who's it from?" Hermione asked, trying to snatch the note away. Harry almost growled, mumbled something about needing a shower, and stalked back up to the Gryffindor tower.

_'Meet me at the R.O.R tonight, Potter.  
D.M' _

Harry did so. He knew it was Draco, even without the 'D.M', because of the green ink and the use of 'Potter'. Harry didn't know why he went, or what Draco wanted, or even what time, but Harry snuck up to the Room of Requirement after lights out, and willed the door to show itself. It did. "Lucky," Harry breathed, and twisted the door knob quietly. Nobody was about yet, no hall patrols even, so he was able to go in and out of the room undetected. He had, however, brought the Marauders Map, just in case.  
"You're here," Draco's voice echoed. The room was small, just larger than a broom cupboard, but it had two adjacent desks, living chairs, and bookshelves. A candle was flickering on one of the desks, lighting up Draco's face, highlighting his pointed features beautifully.  
"Am I late?" Harry asked, pulling his dressing gown over him a little more.  
"No," Draco smiled, and slumped down in a living chair. "I was just early."  
"Restless?" Harry asked, cursing his eyes for looking up and down Draco's body, and burning with desire.  
"A little," Draco nodded slowly, and summoned a book, and began leafing through it lazily. In the dim candle light, Draco's steel eyes had a hint of gold to them, and Harry couldn't help himself but look longer than he should. Why he was here, he didn't know, and why he was growing more attracted to Draco, he didn't know. "I want to talk about sex," Draco said, trying not to look up from the book.  
Harry sat down in the other living chair, and smiled at Draco. "What about sex?" He asked politely. He could see the discomfort in his Slytherin counterpart, and empathized. Draco looked up from his book and pursed his lips. "It's okay," Harry leant forward and smiled sympathetically. Harry was good at covering up shock, it seemed. He'd seen at least seven women come in and out of Draco's room in the past two weeks, so Draco couldn't have been _that _bad, surely? Harry imagined Draco being very _good _at sex. All that repressed tension and strong build? Yes, Draco did seem like a beast in the sack.  
"Sex," Draco visibly tensed up, "with men." Well, that was a _slight _shock to the system. He'd never recalled seeing men go in and out of Draco's dorm.  
"Why would I know about that?" Harry asked slowly, trying to comprehend what Draco was implying.  
"No clue," Draco laughed once, "but I wanted to talk about it."  
"Why?" Harry responded as soon as Draco had closed his rosy lips.  
"You understand that I'm not exactly comfortable around anyone," Draco steepled his fingers, and bore into Harry. "So consider yourself lucky that I'm opening up to you." Harry nodded in understanding. "I'm not women are my thing, I've slept with many recently, no doubt you know. But nevertheless, I don't think they're my thing."  
"They are an acquired taste," Harry chuckled, then stopped as soon as Draco raised his neatly was eyebrows.  
"I agree. I don't know whether I'm gay, Potter, but either way, I don't know how to address my current feelings." Draco rolled his eyes, and felt the need to explain further, "my family can't know. Not until I've found something more permanent or... some_one _more permanent." Draco grew quieter, and Harry felt for him.  
"So you'll only be accepted if you love a straight, pureblood woman, right?" Harry was trying to understand, he really was.  
"Yes, that's right." Draco seemed almost bitter at the life he was born into. "That, or it's an arranged marriage with a string of affairs."  
"Your parents would do that?" Harry was almost disgusted, but he knew helping the Malfoy's was right. "They would sacrifice your happiness?"  
"My happiness is irrelevant, unfortunately. Otherwise I might have considered telling my mother."  
"Well, let's talk about sex then. I think your happiness is relevant, and I'll do anything I can to help."  
"Well... how does one initiate sex?" Draco was relaxing more, though he was still a little on edge.  
"It all starts with a touch, then a kiss, then... well whatever the other person wants. With another guy, I guess it would be a bit rougher than with a girl. But then, Ginny..."  
"Ha!" Draco chortled, "yes, Ginny is quite the devil in bed, isn't she?"

"I'm not apologising!" Harry was in the hospital wing once more, but this time, he threw the punches. And they were punches. A lot of them. At Draco's face. Hermione was hovering around Harry, who was stood at the end of Draco's cot. He refused to say sorry, and what's more, he refused to talk to Ginny. As soon as Draco had spilled those words from his mouth, Harry had lept. He'd seen red- literally. His first punch had given Draco a ferocious nose bleed, but he hadn't stopped, even when his knuckles had cracked and started bleeding. Draco had put up a fight, though. He'd broken Harry's glasses, and clipped him on his jaw and cheek bones a few times. Harry had fled, and Draco had followed him, until they ran into Slughorn, who had dragged them to the hospital wing at stupid o'clock in the morning.  
"Harry, don't be an arse!" Hermione hissed, and looked at Draco, who was getting mended by Madam Pomfrey.  
"He slept with my girlfriend!" Harry was irate at himself for not checking, but it might have been when they'd rowed. He didn't care. He wanted revenge. "I'm sorry, but he said we were friends himself. I'd never sleep with you, because Ron and I are friends!"  
"But you'd sleep with me if we weren't going out?" Hermione asked shyly, then burst out in laughter at Harry's blush. "Seriously, just talk to him."  
"I want to talk to Ginny; I need to break things off."  
"Ron's going to go ape, Harry."  
"Well hopefully he'll find out about his sister and Malfoy, and then his anger will be directed there!"  
"It's not that simple!"  
"Why not?"  
"Draco's been an utter dick all of us since we started, but Ginny's his sister and your his best friend! He's _always _angry at Draco, but it's going to hurt him so much because he knows he should be angry at all three of you."  
"_Men._" Harry managed, seeing his girlfriend dash through the oak doors to the infirmary.  
"Harry!" Ginny called, her face blanched. She threw her arms around Harry, and started stroking his hair, clearly worried.  
"Get off me," Harry whispered.  
"Oh!" Ginny did so straight away, "was I hurting you?"  
"No," Harry lied, grunting. "But we need to talk."  
"That's never good," Ginny looked down.  
"I'll go..." Hermione stepped away slowly, then ran out of the hospital wing before hexes were thrown about.  
"Nor is sleeping with Malfoy," Harry glared at Ginny.  
"What on Earth-"  
"Don't lie to me, Ginny! He admitted it! That's why we were fighting."  
"Look, Potter," Draco had gotten up, and put his hand on Harry's shoulder.  
"Piss off!" Harry shouted, and punched the boy in the nose again.  
"It was one time!" Ginny protested, more sad than angry.  
"Shall I sleep with him too? So we're equal?"  
"Don't be sarcastic, you prick!" Ginny clenched her fists.  
"Who says I'm being sarcastic! He's an attractive man! Clearly charming enough to let you cheat on me!" Harry's green eyes were welling up, and he felt his entire body shake. He was still in his pyjamas, but everyone else, aside Draco, had gotten dressed, because it was nearing breakfast. "It's over, Gin." Harry let out a terrible, long, shaky sigh. "I'm sorry. I'm more sorry than angry. I'm sadder than I am sorry, and I'm more hurt than you realise." Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but shook her head, giving up. She turned on her heels, and stalked to her first lesson.  
"I'm sorry, Harry." Draco's voice was quiet, but Harry couldn't bear to answer. Instead, he slumped on the bed, and sighed.  
"I thought she was the one," he confided. "And I thought we were friends."  
"Friends don't punch each other." Draco pointed out.  
"Friends don't sleep with their friend's girlfriends." Harry said, exhausted.  
"I don't have an excuse, Harry. Maybe she does, but I don't. I'm really sorry. I didn't want to hurt your feelings, and she clearly wanted to hurt you. I'm not saying she's a bad person; she was a good person in a bad situation." Draco's long winded apologies calmed Harry down.  
"It's alright," Harry sighed, "just don't sleep with anymore of my friends."  
"I'll try," Draco smiled. "They all hate me anyway."  
"They've never given you a chance," Harry said diplomatically.  
"I don't blame them, though. I'm an awful person."  
"I don't believe that," Harry said quietly. He looked up at Draco, "are we friends?"  
"Yes," Draco's face was bruised and still a little bloody, but he looked as handsome as he usually did. "I'd like to be your friend."

"...and that's how we make a love potion!" Slughorn beamed proudly, showing off his work to his potions class. Harry had paired up with Draco again, and the two had made up their differences. It had been a week since their argument, and they'd been meeting after dinner every day since. It was their last lesson of the day, and both boys were eager to get off to the Room of Requirement. Something strange had happened to Harry, however. In the love potion, he smelt the sharp, citrus tang of Draco's aftershave, and he started thinking about sex with him. Well, not just sex, which was weird. Usually just kissing or something a little more PG, but still, it was disturbing. Sometimes, Draco interrupted Harry's thoughts sometimes, and that was annoying.  
"We need to talk," Draco whispered in Harry's ear as they were packing up, and Harry nodded quickly.

"I'm here," Harry opened the door to the Room of Requirement and called out to Draco. The room was different to what it usually was. The desks were gone, and so were the bookshelves. Instead, it looked more like a luxury dorm room. A large, green loveseat was opposite a crackling fire, and behind that was a double bed. Harry was taken aback by this all, but not exactly put off.  
"Hi!" Draco had been sat by the fire, but jumped up when Harry walked in. His pyjamas were different to usual, too. He wore black silk boxers, and only a silver dressing gown in velvet. Harry had never realised that Draco might have scars, but he had a large, now white, gash across his chest. He felt a burning desire to run his fingers along it.  
He gulped before speaking, "I feel under dressed." He stated.  
"I can change that," Draco purred, and pullled Harry into him.  
"W-What?" Harry's eyes widened when Draco's cold hands started tugging at the bottom of his night shirt.  
Draco paused, and took a small step back. "Don't you want this?" He asked shyly.  
"I think so," Harry admitted, because it was true. "But now? Aren't we going to talk about things?"  
"You've given enough clues that you like men, Harry. And you're crotch says you like me too," Draco looked down and smirked at Harry's arousal.  
"I can't deny either," Harry muttered, because it was true. He stepped towards Draco, and slipped his arms around his waist. He pulled Draco into a warming hug, and burried his head into Draco's neck.  
"Now about your under dressed-ness..." Draco mumbled, and deftly took off Harry's maroon night top, leaving the Gryffindor exposed. Draco bit his bottom lip and grinned, taking Harry's hips, and pushing them towards his own. Harry had to grab Draco's arse to keep quiet, but he managed to do so. Draco silently took Harry's hand, and led him to the loveseat and sat down. They sat next to each other in quiet for a moment, then Draco could no longer take the tension. He almost lept on Harry, and pinned him to the sofa. Taking his dressing gown off, Draco leaned in and kissed Harry on the lips. Harry breathed in Draco's citrus scent, and smiled against his lips. Tongues met shyly, as both boys were unsure of what to do.

Within an hour, the boys had gotten fully undressed, and were on the bed. Harry was being cuddled by Draco on the bed after finishing up. "That was..." Harry mumbled into Draco's arm pit.  
"Yes, I'm quite good, aren't I?" Draco smirked, and continued playing with a lock of Harry's raven hair.  
"Big headed!" Harry laughed.  
"Not the only thing that's big," Draco shrugged, smiling.  
"So," Harry said, ignoring Draco's remark, "what happens next?"  
"Uh," Draco cleared his throat, sat up, and held Harry up by his shoulders. "Do you want to be my boyfriend?"  
"I think I would," Harry kissed Draco on the forehead, "yes, please, Draco."


End file.
